


Stain Her Beauty Bright

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Oral Sex, Porn Battle, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei wants to play a game.</p><p>Alternate universe.  Written for Porn Battle XIII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stain Her Beauty Bright

“Will you do this for me?”

She’d asked it of them both, and they’d both agreed- Jaime nodding, his eyes on hers, mirrors in mirrors in mirrors, infinite and perfect- Sansa with trembling hands and such need, such a desperate, life-preserving desire to please.  

They could not refuse her, either one.

Sansa removes her silken shift, and while her face is covered by fabric, Cersei takes the opportunity to wrap her hand around the back of Jaime’s neck and pull him in for a kiss.  She then turns to Sansa, guides her toward Jaime, watches her take stock of his size, his strength, his impossible golden beauty.

(He hides the false hand under a pillow, and Cersei feels deeply grateful.)

_Jaime is my twin, and we share everything._ She puts her hands on Sansa’s thighs and lifts her onto Jaime’s lap.   _Show me what you’ve learned._

Jaime lets his hand rest on Sansa’s waist, but his eyes never leave Cersei’s.   _Just like the game we used to play, with the chamber maid in Casterly Rock._   Cersei holds her twin’s gaze, draws her tongue over her lower lip- Jaime rocks Sansa’s hips into his, and the girl gives a sharp gasp.   

_ Don’t fret, little lamb.  You will go to Joff’s bed as pure and intact as the day you were born._

Sansa’s clever little hands tug Jaime’s tunic over his head, and she dips her head to press soft, courteous kisses to his throat and collarbone and chest.  It is a beautiful sight, the white of her face against Jaime’s tanned skin, her hair a banner of brightness-  _you are such a beauty, my little winter princess._

“Kiss her, Jaime,” Cersei sighs, and her brother obeys. Cersei finds herself transfixed and bemused by the gentleness of Jaime’s mouth on Sansa’s, the tentativeness with which he parts her lips with his tongue, the softness of her fingers in his hair.  There is something tender and terrible about it, and Cersei at once needs it to stop and wishes that it would never end.  

_I want to see what I taught you last week._   That night, Sansa’s wide eyes when she caught sight of the marble shaft...Cersei’s nipples harden at the memory. 

Sansa peppers feather-light kisses down Jaime’s torso before unlacing his breeches and freeing his cock.  She hesitates, just for a moment, but Cersei only lifts her eyebrows and strokes the girl’s hair in reply.  

_Very good.   Oh, very good._   Sansa takes Jaime in her mouth, her hand wrapped around the base of him. Her tongue, as tiny and pink as a kitten’s, licks and swirls and Cersei has to slip her hand into her own smallclothes at the sight of Jaime’s face, his eyes half-closed and his lips parted.   

Sansa does not open her eyes as she works Jaime’s cock, and Cersei lets him pull her into his shoulder, lets him trail hot, urgent kisses down the side of her neck.    
  
She knows the flush in his cheeks, the restless movement of his hips- he reaches down to grasp Sansa’s hair, but Cersei stills his wrist.  

“Come in her mouth,” she whispers in his ear.  

Immediately after, Cersei pulls Sansa up and kisses her hard, plunging her tongue in the younger woman’s mouth to taste Jaime’s seed.  

She lets Sansa wrap her legs around her hips and kiss her over and over, although the neediness proves unpleasantly distracting.  She reaches over and pulls Jaime until he sits behind Sansa, his arms encircling both women.

Cersei touches Sansa softly through her smallclothes, just enough to make her chirp.  She turns her face up, focusing once more on the looking glass of Jaime’s eyes. 

“She makes such sweet sounds when she comes, like a little songbird.”  She leans over Sansa’s shoulder to whisper in Jaime’s ear- “I want to hear her sing for you.”

They switch positions, until Sansa lies on her back, her head in Cersei’s lap, Jaime between her legs.  He pulls the ties of her silk smallclothes until they fall away, then resumes those sweet, almost reverent kisses- over her breasts, down her stomach, on the insides of her thighs.  

When he laves his tongue over her sex, Sansa throws her head back against Cersei’s stomach, her eyes winched tight, her Stark-white skin stained with Lannister crimson.  

Even naked on her back with her legs splayed and a man’s tongue in her slit, she is still so pristine, so delicate and perfect- _ my little winter princess..._  It is more than Cersei can bear, and she reaches down to fist Jaime’s hair, interrupting his careful ministrations to push his face harder into Sansa’s cunt.  

The Stark girl comes with a high, musical cry, one hand in Jaime’s hair and the other holding tight to Cersei’s hand.  She lies in the Queen Regent’s lap for a time, rubbing her cheek against Cersei’s hand like a little lap-dog might.

“May I stay with you tonight, your Grace?” she asks, and the longing in her voice burns in Cersei’s chest.  

“Of course, my darling,” she replies, bending down to kiss the girl’s swollen lips.  

She slips out of bed to remove her jewelry.   When she returns, she finds Jaime curled around Sansa, his left hand brushing over her arm, his face resting against her hair.  

Sansa extends her arms, and Cersei lets herself fall into the embrace.  She draws one leg over Sansa’s body and rubs her ankle against Jaime’s.  When the Stark girl drifts off to sleep, her face buried in Cersei’s bosom, she takes her brother’s face between her hands and sighs when his lips cover hers.  

She finds desire in his kiss, heat and passion and love, always love- but she realizes with a stinging in her belly that he will never, can never kiss her _that_ way again- _He will never kiss me as if I was clean._

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from William Blake's "The Lily," which is part of his poetry collection, Songs of Innocence and Experience.


End file.
